


See Through

by atk_97



Category: GOT7
Genre: Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Secondhand embarrassment, bare minimum sexual content, it's cute(?) and embarrassing lol, yugbeom but in mk's pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atk_97/pseuds/atk_97
Summary: Mark happens to be accidentally psychometric even before Jinyoung accepted the lead role in He is Psychometric.//or things Mark unwillingly finds out within the group by touching things.





	1. Chapter 1

It was more than a bad dream and Mark wants out.

Opening his eyes from a deep slumber, Mark huffs a small whine out of his thin lips, the warmth of his bed oddly sending a shiver down his spine. The surface of his mattress was soaked from sweat, faintly imprinting his body shape. It's stuffy.

 _Oh god,_  Mark dreads for a forming fever coming his way. He can feel it in his bones.

Every minute-movement of his body blows a dull ache and Mark already wants to go back to sleep, but his body is more awake than he'd like to admit.

He pads through the kitchen, hoping that a glass of water could help. He blindly reaches for a mug on top of the cabinets and quickly rinses it on the sink. Opting for milk instead, Mark turns to the fridge and scan for the box.

Yugyeom's awful handwriting of _Danger! Mine. Do not Drink!_ on a sparkly notepad greets him. It was tempting, he knew what a fuss their giant maknae could make if he gets busted of hoarding his drink but Mark could care less at the moment.

And when Mark has grasped the box, a tingling sensation fills his palm and a sudden intrusion of vision fills his eyelids, burning his eyes a bit.

 

_'Ah- J-Jaebeom!'_

A drawn out moan fill the air, Mark couldn't help but wince.

 _'Hyung!'_  and a shuffling of thick bed covers ring through his ears, the voice breathy and ragged, Mark rapidly recognising the source of sounds.

Yugyeom, he...

Yugyeom was busy with himself, silently panting in a kneeling position with his face half-buried in one of his many pillows, his right hand currently sliding up and down inside his favorite blue pyjamas. He was on edge and frantic of getting off, too eager to finish.

 _'Jaebeom-hyung..!'_ he whisper shouts. ' _I'm close!- Ah!'_ and he was gone.

Something fragile fell and the sound pulls Mark out of trance, not only was Yugyeom's milk carton but also the mug he was holding puddled on the floor near his feet. Mark jerks away, blinking rapidly, feeling a creeping heat on his face and down his neck.

 

"What the fuck?!" he exclaims to no one.

Hurried footsteps echoed through the hallways and an unkempt Yugyeom frantically appears. "Hyung? What happened?" Yugyeom inquires, Mark quickly averts his gaze –the kid's blue pyjamas were awfully getting on his nerves– and decides to pick up the broken shards on the ground.

"No, hyung! Don't do that!"

"It's cool, Gyeom-ah. I'll be careful–" before Mark could finish his sentence a small cut made its way on his pinky. A drop of blood oozes out and it stings but Mark still continued grabbing the pieces anyway. Looking up, Yugyeom had his i-told-you-so face at him.

 

  
\--

 

  
It was near over two o'clock when Jaebeom, Jinyoung and Yugyeom gathered in their kitchen isle to have some lunch. Considering it's their day off, it was an unspoken tradition that they rely on fast food deliveries of their choice, and today they want some Thai dishes.

"Do you mind asking Mark-hyung what he wants?" Yugyeom nods at Jinyoung and headed towards Mark's room.

Without the need to knock, Yugyeom sees the lump of Mark on top of his bed, his whole body covered with the thick mattress. He seems to have fallen asleep again after what happened earlier. Yugyeom took it upon himself to wake the eldest.

He lightly taps on Mark's cover, "Hyung, we're ordering Thai. Do you want something else?"

An inaudible reply is what Yugyeom hears. "Hyung, it's already two in the afternoon. Please wake up!" he takes off the sheets and Mark attempts to take it back but fails, curling his body to hug his knees, Mark childishly let out an annoyed grunt. 

With one eye, Mark sees Yugyeom staring at him, a question hanging on his tongue.

"Are you sick? You're a bit red in the face" Yugyeom was about to touch his forehead before Mark pats his hand away.

"I'm fine" he grits out.

"Uhh are you sure? Do you want me to call Jaebeom-hyung?"

And _oh god_ , Mark suddenly remembers what he saw. What he was clearly trying to rid off by napping. Obviously, it didn't work as the vivid memories came like a flood, staying on his mind.

Barely brushing past Yugyeom, Mark rushes out of his room and leaves the maknae confused.

Running away won't help and Mark knows that. What he didn’t know was the worse was yet to come with the following days.

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The next four days came and went with Mark bedridden most of the time, body hot (literally) with fever. A pain in the ass, if you ask him.

The others settled to prioritize finishing their individual schedules while Mark recharges because no group activities were to be accomplished without him.

Bambam and Jackson once came home for a visit, the two foreigners acting like mother hens, and even scolded him for being too careless getting sick for long.

Jackson made soup and Bambam boasts of him helping chef Wang when all he did was complain when said chef was too slow to cook a simple dish. It was endearing and Mark apologized for worrying them but he was grateful of their ever-present concerns.

Jaebeom made sure to contact his personal doctor and heed the professional's instructions. Mark was cooperative somehow, too tired to resist, too tired to do anything, really.

 

Come tuesday and Mark was feeling better than ever as the medicine worked it's damn job for his body, although he still has post-fever dizziness. The managers were overjoyed of his fast recovery as they can't cancel the next few weeks of lined up work anymore as it has been long overdue.

"We just talked to manager-hyung for you, said you have take one more day off" says Jinyoung.

"We're only gonna have rehearsals tomorrow, right?" Jinyoung nods.

"Then I can handle it," he immediately placates the younger with a reassuring smile, it was unconvincing. Jinyoung returns a small smile back.

"I don't– no, everyone thinks otherwise." Refusing to acknowledge this was a losing battle of an argument, Mark could only pout in defeat. "But I'm okay," he mumbles.

"It's a precaution, Mark"

"If it helps you feel better, fine"

"It will help _you_ get better, hyung"

"'Nyoungie, _please_. At least let me have the last words!"

 

  
\--

 

  
After being left alone in the dorm the whole place was eerily quiet.

With a thick blanket around him, Mark was nearly dozing off in the living room after a hefty afternoon meal, whom he shared to no one. The three remaining occupants were out of the apartment even before the sun rose.

Deciding to buzz off the aching silence, he flicks the television open and tuned to disney channel. He settles it to a low volume as a Star Wars I rerun plays. Sure he has watched it a thousand times but somehow, he never got bored watching the movie again. He stares into kid Anakin for a while as the character wins the race when his body almost melts into the couch.

The lazy atmosphere was definitely getting to him so he resigned to his fate to just sleep the fuck out of it.

 

An hour or two later, his phone rings and it left him blindly padding through the coffee table to answer. It's an automatic response honed through the years in the industry when even if he might be in the deepest, darkest part of his slumber, a single ring could stir him groggily awake.

Before he could reach for his phone though, his pinky touched something else, and a familiar laughter breaks through.

His body came to a halt and all his senses went overdrive. The scene starts forming in front of his eyes, panning towards the same place where he's currently burrito-wrapped, only this time, he's not there.

Jackson and Bambam appears.

 

_'...ome on, Jacks! Three lines and I'm done! Promise.'_

Jackson shushes him, spit almost landing on Bambam's red flannel, the kid was visibly disgusted of his hyung, _'Quiet down will ya?!'_

_'Like you can.'_

_'Bam-ah shut up!!'_

Bambam grunts, _'Jacks you're no fun.'_

_'Dude, the guy's currently sleeping to recover and all you wanted was to draw dicks on his pretty face!'_

_'And?'_ Bambam using his height advantage, makes a point to look down on Jackson, well, literally, while he twirls the permanent marker between his lanky, slender fingers.

 _'You little shit! This is why you–'_ Mark urgently rose to where he slept, dizzying himself in the process. His heart on his throat, the loud heart beat pumping loudly in his ears. Mark blinks to see his surrounding, no one except Darth Maul falling into oblivion in half was before him. The movie's about to end.

And no. Oh fuck, no! _Not. again._

Unfortunately, witnessing the unwelcome memories of Bambam plotting a prank on him has triggered the revisit of the first memories he unwillingly saw that was definitely not from his own sane mind. Replaying from him touching that damn milk carton to the fragments of Yugyeom jacking off...to Jaebeom.

To _Im Jaebeom_ , his own friggin leader –their leader, his best friend within their best friends circle, to be exact.

And sure, members might have gotten interested towards another member in the group (no name-dropping, this is just Mark's harmless observation in general) at some point in time but come on! A hundred percent sure he didn't need to know about their maknae's fantasy material. That's private info! Totally unnecessary for him to have known.

It's just...weird. There's no other word. No matter how close they are, some things are meant only for themselves.

  
Back to the present, Mark scans the coffee table, his phone now silent, though several missed calls appear on the screen. Aside from the small trinkets decorating the table, near his phone was none other than the permanent marker, the primary tool for Bambam's supposed artistry of drawing red-inked dicks. (Mark will buy meat for Jackson to thank him for stopping the devil.)

Shaken down to his core, Mark buries his face on his now sweaty palms.

 

"What the hell is happening to me?"

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me writing mark resting when sick is the most fictional setting ever...


End file.
